Exclusive Patreon Preview: Oops Too Much Magic game development

Get exclusive WIP details for Oops Too Much Magic

Become a patron today, and get perks at just $1. (Including the right to boast about supporting artists.) You can learn more about the story and characters for free here:

A Princess Forsaken (Preview)

Fantasy • Dark • Surreal


When a knight forsakes his calling to save a trapped princess, he does more damage than he knows. But he’ll find out soon enough, if her devoted servant and darker forces behind it all have their way.

Content Notes: semi-graphic torture, dark themes

A 300-word preview:

Read the full version on Patreon early as a patron or free on 2/11

You have already heard this story. Beautiful, they call her, noble and selfless. A princess has faith in people, hers or others, and trusts them to do the right thing. She is as kind as she is sheltered, her ignorance being an admirable one. In the end, she will be gracious while she is held prisoner in some dark tower. Her knight will come and her gratitude shall be expressed in a kiss and eternal matrimony.

This princess was the exception. Still is, if the story is to be believed. Her knight did not come to rescue her, but to seal her further; the kiss withered on her lips and died in her heart. Her beauty became harsh, nearly painful to look at, as tender freckled skin faded to shadowed circles under her eyes and a pale sallow in the cheeks. Yet her green eyes shone ever blithely in the eclipsing dark and that easing grace of her lineage never left her. Like stains of innocence, those freckles persisted, matching her rusted blonde hair.

Now she became the threat, inclined to lean in close and drive the dagger deep. Fate had not been kind or gracious, and she had learned from him. When instead her servant came to save her from that damned stone tower, she tried to kill him. Failing that, she held him in the dungeon within her dungeon. The darkness was already in his eyes, buried deeper than even enucleation could reveal—if she elected to go so far.

Get early access at $1+ on Patreon!

Into My Shadow: Dark Beginnings (Preview)

Fantasy • Dark • Drama


Dira’s found himself trapped in a literally underground magic lab, and he knows this isn’t something he’s worming his way out of. Not alone. Luckily, his concept of “living things” is pretty flexible.

Content Notes: swearing, non-graphic torture | Dira reference (yes, he’s different, yes, there’s a reason)

A 400-word preview:

Read the full version on Simily or on Patreon

A nameless mage prodded him with some magic staff, precharged with a lightning spell if he had to guess. A hard task to do, what with his screaming blending with a resonant thrum, rising and falling like a stormy sea thrashing against an imposing cliff. No one was getting anywhere. Not the mages, not him, and definitely not the entity living in that glowing crystal.

He must’ve struck a chord because that zap pressed on past the point of Dira enduring it that time around. His grip on the wooden bars as he shook would probably leave him with splinters once he could feel his hands again. Problem was, whatever they had trapped down there bonded with him and that made it all worse. It felt his pain, which he felt it feeling. The shock in his muscles bounced around the facets of its plain crystalline form. When Dira could catch glimpses of the entity there with him, he could see the smoke swirling around it and almost pressing against what had it smothered and powerless. All with a low and faint gong sensed more than truly heard. Whether in sympathy or pain, or some combination, Dira didn’t know from the short and miserable weeks he’d been there.

But kindness was kindness, especially in a place so likely to be his last. The spell eventually faded from that awful staff, and Dira took that rare chance to put his hand on the bars closest to the crystal. He heard someone step closer and crouch down but didn’t bother to move. Whatever they were going to do next to test this connection they couldn’t have or understand, he didn’t want to see it.

At least he wasn’t alone down there. He’d been getting pretty tired of that.

“You pity it.”

Slowly, Dira turned to look at the elf studying him. He’d seen him before. Sometimes, Stefan snuck him extra food when he knew no one else would be around. Being the least terrible person in the forbidden magic den didn’t exactly get him any awards. Dira squinted, bringing another arm to the bars and wrapping his hands around both. Might help to have those in place for whenever someone came back with a new staff.

“I’d pity any creature’n a place like this.”

Get early access at $1+ on Patreon!

Holmes Institute: Legacy (Short Story)

Modern • Academy • Drama


Being one of the top students at Holmes Institute involves more responsibilities than Jasper Madero really wants. Luckily, she’s pretty clever and can slip out of those with only a little fuss. Her friends want to help smooth things over, and her school’s founder just wants her to live up to her potential. She gets that. She just really wishes she didn’t. 

Words: 1200 (2 to 10 minutes) | Content Notes: swearing | Patron-Only WIP | Also on Royal Road

Sneaking back home from Watson Hall was the first step to comfy clothes. Jasper would rather be in the era-inspired commons, flopped sideways on the carved sofa with her legs over the arm, than standing backstage in a suit. Getting stared at by an ocean of donors in their stuffy outfits with deep pockets—that Verity Holmes wanted a piece of—wasn’t Jasper’s idea of a top tier Friday night. And what did she need an award for anyway? To prove she was smart? That’s what the grades were for.

Jasper didn’t regret the decision once the bus dropped her off, and she didn’t by the time Darius got back with the other two best students either. The only thing she wished she’d done differently was bring the remote closer for when Netflix asked if she was still watching.

Min and Everitt came to find her first, which she figured gave her about 15 minutes before Miss Holmes stopped lecturing Darius by the door and marched into the living room to sort Jasper out. They stood in the open archway with their dumb starry glass trophies, plus one for her. Poor souls were still in their show gear to be paraded about. Never bothered them, though. Everitt thrived in his perpetual state of being dressed like an inclusivity model for Ralph Lauren, and Min barely needed a reason to make new clothes. Biggest differences were that he took out his ‘lucky bowtie’ for special events and she put her ethereally straight hair into a ponytail.

“So,” she deadpanned, “was it lit?”

“Miss Verity delivered an exceptional speech,” Everitt chose to describe how lit it wasn’t. Jasper just sighed. She couldn’t roll her eyes, or he’d mope for days when he took that personally. “And she awarded us with these.”

He presented her with a smoked glass trophy, aka an expensive rectangle with her name engraved on a silver plaque at the bottom. They changed the trophy style each year but kept it as pointless as ever.

“Huh.” Jasper pointed to the trash next to the redwood archway. “There.”

Everitt gasped, clutching the trophy against his sweater vest like she suggested throwing out a baby. “But you earned this! Take more pride in your intellect.”

Min held her hand out for it instead, and he recovered from his shock with a smile as he passed it off. They always made quite the duo from the first day they met at the academy. His curly hair failed to make her height over him less obvious. She had three piercings in each ear and two in one eyebrow while he had those academia rectangle glasses. And Everitt made more than enough chatter for both of them.

“I’ll put it on the reptile shelf,” Min informed Jasper. That’s what she called the collection of figures Jasper’d picked up over the years. Personal pets weren’t allowed at HI—just the community cat. Min tucked the trophy-baby in the crook of her arm with her own Smart Kid award and pulled her ponytail in front of her shoulder. “You should’ve stayed.”

“Waste two hours and then some so the donors can feel fuzzy warm?” Jasper sat up and gave them a forced smile. “Hard pass.”

“Miss Verity was upset.”

“Oh, goodness me,” she answered Everitt, holding a hand to her mouth in fake shock. “Vera, upset? Like her usual? Or—” She pulled out an exaggerated tight smile, nowhere near the PR-approved expression the newest Holmes descendent had on hand. The important part was Jasper got him to hide a snicker behind a hand. The worried pout look was getting old. “Okay, so that one. Don’t care either way.”

Didn’t need to be a genius detective to solve the mystery of whose grumpy footsteps were coming around the corner. The heels on hardwood signaled the approach of one irritated Verity Holmes, if her friends looking at her like she had a terminal diagnosis wasn’t hint enough. Jasper had just enough time to flop back on the couch before she manifested behind them.

She kept a careful neutrality when she glanced from Min to Everitt, stormy sea eyes searching for weakness. Even her hair was made to appeal to anyone with stylish waves ending in a harsh, even cut right at her jawline. Just add smokey cat eye makeup for your very own organic bitch.

“I need a moment with Miss Jasper.”

“But of course,” Everitt chimed, eyebrows still furrowed as he smiled and followed Min upstairs. She wondered for a second if Verity would care if the award took her place. Jasper didn’t want to be there then either. With her hands clasped in front of her ombre sweater, the school’s founder waited for her good students to be out of earshot.

“Every opportunity you have, and for every student in these walls,” Verity explained for the hundredth time, hoping it might stick, “is due to these donors. You have an obligation to—”

“Why did they give us money if they don’t want to? Why do they need to see us?”

“Because they want to see their charitable deed paying off, Jasper, and,” she cut off Jasper’s next reply, jabbing a manicured nail in her direction. “There is nothing wrong with that. What is wrong is compromising those donations because you want to sit around and do nothing.”

“What’s wrong,” Jasper corrected her, because someone had to, “is taking back donations because you didn’t get something from it! Donating is literally giving things away for nothing.” She shrugged and looked up at the vintage-style cream ceiling. “That’s the point.”

“Jasper!” Verity closed her eyes, taking a bracing breath and giving Jasper a precious window to stick her tongue out. “You have talent. You are smart, determined, and clever.” Having a seat on the light grey reading chair she usually occupied in the promotional material for the school, Vera leaned forward. “But none of that will make you exempt from doing things you don’t want to do or understand the purpose of.”

“What, like you living off the legacy of your dead great-great-whatever?” The way her jaw locked, Jasper realized she hit home with that. Too close, probably, but there was no stopping now. She grinned and rested her hands behind her head to get a better look at that ‘don’t you dare’ glower. “Bet you had job offers in the womb just because you had alleles in common with the great Sherlock Holmes.”

Vera stood, brushing invisible lint from her pencil skirt before folding her hands in front of her one last time.

Resting bitch pose. Although Jasper knew just what she did to deserve it, and she could bank on Darius pulling her aside before breakfast to talk about it.

“Report to Miss Hawthorne in the morning for your volunteer schedule.”

Jam Notes

If you enjoyed, leave a like and/or a comment! They help motivate me to keep writing. Also, keep an eye out for the patron-only poll on my Patreon on July 1st to vote for the next patron exclusive content.

A special thanks goes to Meryem for going above and beyond standing behind my work, and all my patrons!